Initiative
by DoctorDoctor
Summary: "You don't even realize it, do you? Why you sought me out alone, kidnapped me off my own ship – You took the initiative this time... not me." Things don't always go as planned when you aren't used to taking the initiative. [ZxK]
1. Chapter 1

**Initiative****  
Chapter One **

The ship was dark and still, swaying in the water with each wave that gently broke against its hull. The watch assigned to the deck were relaxed, making their rounds as ordered but without much thought involved. They had been at sea for over six weeks without seeing any land, and at present were still heading north in search of their elusive prey – the Avatar.

Thoughts of their quarry had graced the minds of all of the crew at one point or another, most often when they saw their incensed leader pacing the decks. He did this frequently, sometimes accompanied by the quiet form of his uncle whose calming ministrations were oft in vain, but generally he walked alone. Alone, angry, and ensnared in his thoughts, completely unaware of reality as he mulled over his past.

Alone, as he walked now.

Zuko preferred to walk the decks at night when he couldn't sleep, rather than spend another night staring at the ceiling of his room, drilling his eyes into the tapestries that covered the cold metal walls of his room. It was an ingrained habit, after starting awake from he would slip out of his quarters and onto the deck, a quiet wraith escaping his night-terrors.

There were no stars in the sky tonight; it was a gloomy and dark night. Although the moon was full and bright, its light stayed muted behind a veil of fog and turbulent clouds. No shadows were cast, only a vague wash of silver light spilling over the deck and reflecting off the infinitely black waters.

He walked next to the rail, eyes absently searching the horizon he couldn't see, scanning for a sign of his prey that wasn't there. With a quiet sigh of dissent, he turned from the edge and resumed his laps around the deck, nodding as he passed the guard at his post. The ship was massive, even though it was a smaller series, it still took him nearly twenty minutes to walk from one end to the other. As the soldiers steps faded away, the exiled prince relished the solitude of hearing only his footsteps on the deck, and the gentle scrape of something sliding over metal—

Zuko froze, his mind racing as he realized that there was no reason that anything should be sliding on the deck: all cargo was below decks and secured, and the chains were currently locked in their places. The fine hairs on his body stood up, and his senses prickled in tense anticipation.

_Someone is on my ship!_

That was all he had time to think before he was swept overboard by a black rush of water, his angry cry emerging only as a stream of anguished bubbles.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_I generally don't put A/N, so I'll try to_ _keep this succinct. Please review if you like it. Updates will generally be once every week. Enjoy! _


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The next few hours were a literal blur. His world was viewed through a constantly melting block of ice, his furious screams muted by the foot-thick block of frozen, murky sea water. After the first few, frantic minutes, Zuko controlled his breathing, slowing the hyperventilation to preserve oxygen. His strategy of poking holes in the ice developed soon after, as he realized that his captor intended to keep him alive but that his likely hadn't considered the outcome of encasing their captive in a non-permeable block of ice. That, or they were skilled interrogators and intended to drain him mentally by keeping him busy and draining his energy by fighting for air and regulating his body temperature.

As soon as one of his fire-jets breached a hole in the ice, allowing a few gusts of precious air, it was stoppered up by a plug of ice, keeping him in a constant state of near-panic. As a fire bender, his ability to produce fire relied on the presence of air. All fire benders were taught early on that an inhibited air flow resulted in an inhibited flame output, and his power was being effected accordingly – his flares grew smaller, and took more focus to produce as the time dragged on.

Finally, as he began to despair, the ice surrounding him dispersed, and melted away revealing an island dimly lit by a rising sun. He spun around to face his captor, steaming clouds of water as his drenched clothing finally dried and his abilities were restored to him.

"You!" he snarled, furious at the person standing before him.

"Me," said Katara, standing knee deep in the ocean, flanked by a two large surges of water that she controlled. The tide licked at Zuko's heels, and streams of water danced up his lower legs, boiling away as his rage burned through him.

"I believe it is time we had a little chat," she said bluntly.

"This goes far beyond _a little chat _you witch," Zuko hissed.

Katara narrowed her eyes, and the water grew stronger as it crashed against Zuko.

"Temper that attitude, _Prince_ Zuko," she ordered with an faint trace of glee. He scowled, knowing that the battlefield here gave her the obvious advantage: even though the sun was rising to restore his powers, the moon was still full in the sky for several more hours after dawn broke, and the long period of oxygen deprivation he was subjected to had reduced his ability to firebend without severely exhausting himself. He knew this had been carefully planned.

"Where am I?" he spat out, eying the girl venomously.

The waterbender ignored the question, and locked eyes with the still-steaming prince, her gaze steady as his eyes narrowed further and his face contorted with fury. The minute twitch of his fingers gave away his actions, and before he could fully summon a whip of fire, she doused him with a wave, the current nearly ripping him off his feet.

"You," she declared, "are stuck here with me. Alone, miles and miles from your ship. They don't even know you are gone yet."

Katara stopped, worrying her lip slightly, before she spoke again.

"I could have let you die," she offered.

Zuko shifted uncomfortably in the sand, reminded of the precarious position that he was in: alone, on an island, at the edge of the water and confronted by a somewhat skilled waterbender.

_This bitch._

"But you didn't. Why am I here?" he asked bluntly.

Katara paused, her previous bluster quickly fading away as she started to speak, then halted. After a moment, she replied.

"I have to know."

"Know what?" Zuko growled.

"Why..."

_Why? Agni, is this debacle intended to be some existential debate?_

The exiled prince's attention was now riveted on the conversation, and only slightly on how he could disintegrate her before being drowned.

"Why what?" he asked carefully.

"Why you're a prince and yet a pariah? Why you have that scar? Why you... why..."

Silence met her questions, as she trailed off before taking a breath and rounded upon him.

"I want to know why you saved me! Gods, I don't understand you!" she yelled, suddenly emboldened by the chance to yell at the man who had haunted her thoughts for months.

_I'll save you from the pirates_, he recalled, containing a smirk at thought of the helpless outrage he had read in her eyes that day.

"You're a psychotic megalomaniac who stalks me, my brother, and my friends. You've tried to capture us, beat us, scare us, and even kill us! But then you go and do something like that! You dangled my mother's necklace under my nose instead of handing me over to be tortured! Why?"

Katara stepped forward with each word, until she stood less than a foot from Zuko. She looked up to his impassive face, and fought to keep from herself from trembling.

"Why?" she repeated, this time quieter.

"I want to know," she hissed. "Why did you save me, if you are going to keep trying to _kill me_!"

Zuko stared at her, astonished at the boldness with which she approached him. He knew she feared him, he could practically smell the terror when he had crept up to her that day, and he instinctively knew that that day all those weeks ago was the catalyst for this day today. It hadn't left the back of his mind since the event – nearly every night it replayed unwillingly, the scene unfolding again and again, the painfully wide blue eyes seared into his mind. Apparently, it hadn't left hers, either.

The thing about fear was that it was an interesting force; unchecked, it could petrify and stun into submission. Conversely, it could inspire also rage, and provoke an extreme response, the age old 'fight-or-flight' response he had been schooled in. A skilled interrogator (which she clearly was not) knew to carefully toe the line between fear and anger, playing on the emotions and desperation of their captive to pry answers and information from them. But this interrogation was more of a demand. Clearly, the peasant had chosen to fight, and she was fighting for answers.

_Why indeed. Why spare a peasant, especially one so disrespectful?_

He knew the answer, and chose to deny it. He was about to spit some insult demeaning her heritage, but hesitated as the ocean grew choppy with her impatience, the ominous swells crashing against the sand.

_The truth is not for you to know._

Zuko examined her for a moment, then decided to graze over the question.

"I couldn't just leave you to be tortured for answers, it wasn't the honorable thing to do."

"Don't speak to me of _honor_," she spat out. "You razed my village, a village with no warriors in it! There is no honor in that!"

Zuko shook his head.

"It's war," he admitted. How could he possibly hope to explain the moral intricacies of engaging an enemy that existed in a semi-nomadic state, a combatant whose lifestyle was guerilla warfare? The only option in battle against this style of enemy was to exterminate them, to remove any chances of counter-attack or ambush by destroying the staging grounds so there was nothing to retreat into.

"Then why did you save me?" she demanded, searching his face for answers. His eyes were hard, and his jaw was set stubbornly. A terse minute passed, and the sea grew colder, ice sparkling on the surface.

"Because you are mine," he admitted finally.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Katara was appalled.

"Excuse you? I'm not somebody's chattel! And I _especially _am not yours."

"Yes you are," he answered with conviction. Zuko's stare, smoldering hot, held her swallowed nervously as the heat seemed to roll off him in waves.

"You are mine. Mine to fight, mine to take, mine to kill, and mine to spare. When we engaged in mutual combat, I chose you, _marked_ you for myself. You are mine, and I will not allow some common bilge-rats to touch you."

Zuko shook his head wryly, before speaking again.

"You don't even realize it, do you? Why you sought me out alone, kidnapped me off my own ship – I bet you didn't even tell your little friends," he murmured with a small smirk. "You slunk off into the night, on a clandestine mission to capture me and face me one-on-one. Do you deny it?"

Katara was rooted to where she stood, a look of apprehensive horror dawning on her face.

"No," she breathed.

"Yes – and you took the initiative this time, little waterbender. Not me."

With that he pounced on her, faster than she ever could have imagined, evaporating the waters at her feet with a wave of fire that burned white-hot and firmly placing her in a submission hold. Katara thrashed wildly as he dragged her off the beach and into the jungle, ignoring her frantic attempts to escape and screams of fury.

"LET ME GO!"

"I think not," he replied calmly, searching for a suitable spot to conduct his own interrogation.

"It seems that turnabout is fair play, peasant," he purred with delight, then cut a nearby length of vine and bound her arms behind her back, securing her to a tree.

"Now... we are going to have a little chat," the prince said with a dark smile.

Katara shook with abject and profound terror, fearing what would come next. She desperately searched for a body of water, _any _body water, trying with all her might to summon the oceans to wash him away. Yet immobilized as she was, the only 'waterbending' she could manage was to stop the tears that threatened to spill.

"Where is the Avatar?" he said simply.

She lowered her head and remained silent, not trusting her voice to remain steady.

Zuko grabbed her head, and lifted her chin to meet his gaze.

"I asked you a question. I answered yours, now you answer mine."

"I will not," she choked out, gritting her teeth.

"You had your chance," he said simply.

"Remember that while you may have brought me here thinking to seek answers, you simply allowed me the chance to ask questions of my own."

Katara flinched at her own stupidity, swallowing as though she could prevent the rise of the cold dread gathering in the pit of her stomach.

_What was I thinking?_

Zuko stepped away, then disappeared from view as he walked behind the tree. She heard rustling, the sound of armor and clothing shifting, and then he reappeared, this time holding a flask.

"What is that?" she asked, instantly throwing together an escape idea. If she could bend the liquid inside of it, then maybe she could form an ice dagger!

He ignored her, unscrewing the lid and taking a long drink, his eyes closing briefly as he swallowed the unknown liquid. When they reopened, they seemed to burn brighter, regarding Katara as though he could see into her soul.

She coaxed the fluid, feeling it move slightly, but it didn't seem to respond to her attempts at freezing it.

_What kind of stuff is in that?_

Without any warning, Zuko pulled her braid and tilted her head back, forcing the flask into her mouth. She sputtered at the warm sting of strong alcohol, but he continued, forcing the remainder down her throat as she coughed and choked. Her stomach flipped, then seemed to burn, an indescribable heat radiating from her center throughout her body. She felt the tension release as her thoughts grew muddy, and she felt as though she was swimming.

Fifteen minutes passed, an eternity of alcoholic numbness to Katara, as she hung limply against the vines. Zuko inspected her carefully, watching the rise and fall of her chest slow as her body absorbed the whiskey. It was an expensive brew, imported from deep in the Fire Nation, an extremely strong blend that had aged 18 years in fine fire-oak barrels. One flask could keep him drunk all night, and the swig he took earlier burned hot in his stomach still, a fuzzy release from the tension he felt. He appraised her slowly, ignoring the urge to undo her hair and examine her more intimately.

"Where is the Avatar," he asked again, his voice rough from the whiskey.

Katara opened her eyes, a swimming vision of two Zukos before her.

"That's a secret," she mumbled, defiant even in her compromised state.

The prince felt a spark of irritation, but quickly stopped it and took a different approach.

"You can tell me your secrets," he coaxed softly. "You can trust me, I won't to hurt you."

Katara stared into his eyes, lost in the luminous gold of his stare.

_My secrets..._

"I— I dream about you at night," she confessed. "—sometimes you kiss me."

Zuko froze in place.

_That was... unexpected._


End file.
